


i will wade out till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers

by jazztrousers



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 09:56:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/620846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazztrousers/pseuds/jazztrousers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wade is having a hard time adjusting to losing his healing factor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i will wade out till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers

**Author's Note:**

> I play fast and loose with timelines, ages, continuity and universes. Just go with it.  
> (I couldn't decide if I wanted Aunt May or Superfamily as Peter's family so I went with neither.)

Peter and Wade have been sleeping together for barely two weeks when Peter receives a text that simply reads:

**I need to talk to you about something.**

Standing in his kitchen with a mouthful of toast, Peter is stunned. He didn’t know those words were even in Wade’s vocabulary, or maybe this is another one of Wade’s bizarre jokes that he doesn’t quite get.

 _Maybe Wade is breaking up with me_ , he thinks, sitting down at the table and chewing thoughtfully, starting to feel less hungry by the second. _Maybe he cheated on me. Are we even exclusive yet?_ He puts down the toast, suddenly feeling ill. They’ve been screwing for two weeks, for crying out loud, it’s not like they were getting married or anything. Wade isn’t the relationship type, anyway.

For all his slow-moving panic, Peter has forgotten to actually reply to Wade’s message. His phone dings again.

**I’ll drop round tomorrow, okay Petey?**

Peter quickly fires off a reply that tomorrow is fine. He slumps in his rickety wooden chair and groans with foreboding. Tomorrow is _not_ fine, he wants to know what’s up _right now_.

 

* * *

 

“So… you can get hurt?” Peter asks softly. His mouth is dry and he can’t decide if he is relieved or not.

Wade isn’t breaking up with him. Wade didn’t cheat on him.

Wade’s healing factor is gone.

“Sure can. I can die and everything, although I’ve managed not to so far. I gotta eat and sleep a whole lot now, I have to sleep for like six hours a night! Still, beats having cancer.” Wade is saying, sounding casual about it all. Peter’s brain is still trying to adjust to the information.

Peter settles for just nodding instead. “Okay. Sure. Wow. Congratulations…?”

Wade chuckles, mask creasing around his eyes. “Hell yeah, Petey. Congratulations is right. I didn’t wanna live forever, but I ain’t ready to die just yet either.”

“Cool.” Peter says. He feels stupid. What is he supposed to say? He had some idea that Wade’s healing factor was making him depressed, if not batshit fucking crazy, and then there was what it had done to his skin—

“So, do you, like… look any different? Or is it just your cells?”

The tall mercenary makes a strange, non-committal whining noise. “Eh, a little. I got hair and stuff.”

“Can I see?”

Wade pulls off his mask, and runs a hand through dirty blonde hair. His skin is perfect.

Wade has eyebrows, and eyelashes. Even a dusting of stubble on his strong, wide jaw.

Wade is pretty fucking handsome, Peter observes with numb shock.

“Whaddaya think?” he asks, and the teen laughs. Having eyebrows and such distinguished, chiselled facial features actually makes Wade’s facial expressions seem even more cartoonish and exaggerated.

“Goofy, in a handsome way.”

Peter had always been attracted to Deadpool. Sure, his scars and constantly shifting skin was a little odd, but he just… oozed sexual confidence. He’d always been able to make the younger man blush hard just with a few words, his friendly physical nature and… well, the red and black suit wasn’t exactly loose on him. Wade was pretty damn ripped, body-wise.

Right now? Wade looks mildly uncomfortable. His eyebrows are kitted together, and he puts the mask over the back of his head, almost like a reflex, but then stops and just kind of wears it like a beanie hat.

“Well…” he says, sounding uncertain, and then reverts back to his usual self, flashing Peter a ridiculous grin. “Tell me somethin’ I don’t know.”

Peter laughs and shakes his head at Wade’s characteristic lameness, but something feels off. He tells himself that Wade has been through a lot and is just adjusting to the change.

 

* * *

 

 _Wade doesn’t know how to be attractive_ , Peter suddenly realises one afternoon while he and his boyfriend- still too soon? He isn’t sure. He hasn’t called Wade his boyfriend outside of his head yet- are out getting pizza. Now that his body works like a regular human’s, Wade’s appetite almost rivals Peter’s.

The blonde- yup, Wade, blonde, who’d have thought it, right? – has been sullen and quiet ever since they left Peter’s apartment, and it’s freaking him out. Wade usually talks enough for both of them, and possibly several other people too, but right now he is only mumbling a few words at a time and being almost… _polite_ as he eats his pizza.

Something is very wrong.

Once they are done eating, Peter awkwardly puts a hand on top of Wade’s on the table and asks him, “Is everything okay? You’re acting weird, and not your usual kind of weird, I mean like the kind of weird where you’re all—“

“People are looking at me.” Wade says, cutting through Peter’s nervous babbling. He is staring at the table still.

“Uh… are they?”

“Yeah. Just looking at me like I’m some normal, regular dude. A few people have even smiled at me. It’s weird.”

Peter finds himself looking at Wade too, and he knows that what Wade is saying is true. Dressed in jeans and a plain black t-shirt, Wade looks like any reasonably attractive, well-built man you might see on the streets of New York.

“And that’s bad…?” Peter asks, inwardly kicking himself. When it comes to things that aren’t schoolwork or being Spiderman, Peter is a little out of his depth, especially in social situations. _Especially_ especially with someone whose mind is a rat-maze of craziness and trap doors, like Wade.

“Before, when people would look at me, they’d stare, y’know? They’d be disgusted, or afraid.” Wade is talking like he doesn’t care if Peter is listening or not, even though he is leaning forward in his seat to catch every word. It’s so rare that Wade is serious like this, tells Peter what’s going on inside his mind, what makes him weak.

“I knew how to deal with that. This? This is weird as shit.” He concludes, and shrugs.

“Hey, hey,” Peter starts in what he hopes is a comforting tone. “Listen, man. You might _look_ like a regular joe,” he grins, widely, “but as soon as you open your mouth, it’s obvious that you’re anything but.”

Wade laughs, warmly, and not for the first time, Peter feels a great deal of affection for Wade’s smile.

“Jerkoff.”

“You love me.”

“You bet your sweet, barely-legal ass I do.”

 

* * *

 

That night, on Wade’s bed, Peter fucks Wade for the first time. It’s Peter’s first time actually penetrating anyone, and he’s a little sloppy, but very enthusiastic.

Peter had lost his virginity to Wade in a dirty alleyway with the Spiderman suit bunched around his knees, desperately trying not to attract attention as Wade slammed him into a graffiti-covered wall.

If Peter were the kind of person who read romance novels, which he definitely isn’t, he would describe Wade as primal in bed. Animalistic, hungry. All rough grabbing and biting and grunting, making Peter flop around like a rag doll in his arms.

On the receiving end, Peter discovers a whole new side to the merc which, looking back on it, he can’t believe he hadn’t guessed was there, what with the suggestive poses and frequent wearing of women’s clothing and generally flirtatious manner and, well, you know, all of it.

Wade is making the filthiest noises Peter has ever heard. He would compare Wade’s shameless moans of enjoyment to the women he’s seen in porn, but those sounds are fake, and the way Wade’s heels dig into Peter ass with each roll of his hips, as if he can’t get enough, feels very real. Also, no person on earth would say the words Wade is almost shouting in his ear, unless they physically couldn’t help themselves. Peter is sure he heard him whimpering something about being taken “to pound town on the fuck truck” at a particularly intense moment. Not to mention the obscene praise Wade is constantly showering him with, mainly regarding the length and girth of his cock.

It’s wonderful.

Where Wade’s body had been smooth and scabby before, Peter now finds fine blonde hair all over. Patches of his skin stained pink with Peter’s handprints and sheer exertion, like he is glowing all over. His hair hangs damp and sweaty in his face as he tosses his head from side to side on the pillow, and when he comes, hands clawing at Peter’s back, Peter comes too, bucking and shuddering like he’s having a fit.

Afterward, Wade looks at Peter so dopey-eyed he is practically drooling with satisfaction. He releases Peter from his crushingly tight grip and runs his hands through Peter’s hair and all over his face. “My my, Petey. What a stud.”

Peter breaks away and squashes his face into Wade’s chest, grinning from ear to ear. “I love you, Wade.” He mumbles.

“Love you.” Wade sighs in agreement. “Isty bitsy spider.”

The younger man laughs tiredly and kisses Wade again.

 

* * *

 

Peter and Wade fight a lot. Usually about things Wade does.

Wade disappears, sometimes for days on end, without telling Peter where he is going, or why. One time he said he was going out to the corner store for some item or another they were out of, and just didn’t come back for three whole days. He couldn’t understand Peter’s anger on his return, and after a while, Peter realised it was probably because Wade had never had anybody care about his comings and goings before. It hurt to think about, and he felt like holding Wade tightly and never letting go. What Peter did instead was call Wade an asshole and beat him at Call Of Duty.

Spiderman never hurts the criminals he apprehends. Deadpool will kill a man in his bed while he sleeps, for the right price. When Wade comes home soaked in another person’s blood, and doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed, Peter wonders how the two of them can possibly work. It takes a lot of arguments, yelling and storming out before it’s decided that while Peter and Wade are dating, Spiderman and Deadpool have nothing to do with eachother.

And while Wade would never, ever admit to it, Peter can’t help but notice that Wade’s jobs seem further and further apart recently. Not to mention that time he opened a drawer to find a child’s drawing of Deadpool with “Thank you for saving my daddy” scrawled underneath in crayon. Peter doesn’t ask about Wade’s work.

 

* * *

 

Over time, Peter notices a slight improvement in Wade’s memory. He figures it’s due to the loss of the healing factor, and that now Wade’s brain isn’t constantly healing and fluctuating, he is able to think more clearly.

It starts with Wade suddenly announcing that it is his birthday in a few weeks, and that he will be thirty years old.

Another time, while they are watching television, Wade recounts for Peter how he loved to go out onto the frozen lakes where he grew up, (Wade isn’t sure where in Canada he is from, but he thinks he and his parents moved to the US when he was about nine) and slide on the ice barefoot because he had no skates.

Occasionally Wade will mention people from his past. Nate is mentioned a lot, as is Nessa. Peter even gets to meet Bob, Weasel and Blind Al, claiming he is Wade’s roommate. They all give him the same nod and a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

On Wade’s birthday, Peter looks in the drawer in their bedroom where he found the child’s drawing. It’s gone, but in its place he finds a letter from a cancer charity thanking Wade for donating an amount of money that Peter has to read three or four times before it sinks in.

Underneath that, a half-filled out application form for a volunteer’s post at a suicide crisis hotline.

Peter thinks Wade’s hallucinations must be rubbing off on him.

 

* * *

 

For Peter’s twenty-first birthday, Wade takes him to Germany. They drink an obscene amount of beer and indulge in some drunk parkour. Peter doesn’t know if he can go back to web-slinging in New York after experiencing the castles and towers of Munich.

“I didn’t know you could speak German.” He remarks to Wade, as they sit on the rooftop of their hostel.

Wade spends the rest of the night singing to him in German, growling seductive-sounding phrases in Spanish and occasionally throws out odd snippets of Japanese.

“You’re so smart.”  
“Can we get more of those sausages? I mean, they’re no hotdog stand on 34th, but they’re pretty moreish.”

On the plane back home, Peter and Wade join the mile-high club. The stewardesses don’t look very convinced when Wade smiles sweetly at them and tells them that Peter is his younger cousin who suffers terribly with air-sickness.

 

* * *

 

 

Gwen dies, and it’s all Peter’s fault. He closes himself off, and throws himself into his work. He is barely home, and when he is, he avoids Wade. He knows it hurts Wade, but he can’t bring himself to care.

One day, he finds a strange black goo on his suit.

The next thing he is aware of is Venom’s voice in his mind. Whispers growing louder and louder, telling him to hurt people. Promising him strength beyond his wildest dreams.

Then there is a gunshot, and a flash of black and red.

“Hey, you! With the tentacles! You got somethin’ of mine, I want it back!”

Brave, foolish Wade. He sometimes forgets he isn’t immortal any more.

Venom throws him off a building, and as Peter watches Wade fall, he remembers Gwen.

Peter wonders if the people he loves will ever be safe from him.

 

* * *

 

 

Wade survives the fall, but he is badly concussed and has broken almost all of his ribs. He’s in a wheelchair for just over two weeks. Peter tends to him, cooking his meals, helping him bathe, and eventually giving in to slow, gentle sex that Wade insists he is healed enough for.

Wade lies on his back, his sides mottled blue and purple and black (“Like fruit that’s goin’ bad”) as Peter rides him in slow, even movements. His chest hurts every time he looks at Wade. No matter how many times Wade tells him it wasn’t his fault, he knows it was. Venom was able to control him because he was depressed, bitter, weak. The older of the two holds Peter’s hips and gasps happily as Peter rocks in his lap.

Later, when Peter is cleaning Wade up with a warm sponge, Wade says to a voice Peter can’t hear, “Yeah, I’d marry him.”

“Wha-what?” Peter stammers.  
“What?”  
“You… wanna marry me?”  
“You heard that?”  
“You said it out loud. Are your voices okay after you hit your head?”  
“The yellow box has a broken foot.”  
Peter laughs and bows his head, feeling shy. “If you asked me to marry you, I’d say yes.”  
“Sweet. Maybe I will.” Wade says nonchalantly, but his cheeks are a little pink.  
“Cool.” Peter replies.


End file.
